


what it's all about

by SongOfMarbule



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongOfMarbule/pseuds/SongOfMarbule
Summary: After years of no success, Prompto and Ignis finally get the chance to spend Winter Solstice together. Unfortunately, the meticulous schedule Ignis had put together falls through, and Prompto scrambles to take up the mantle, desperate to make their first Solstice together a day (and night) to remember.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	what it's all about

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EzraTheBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/gifts).



> Happy holidays, Blue, I was your Secret Santa! Here's a cute little Promnis-flavoured something for you. Thank you for everything you do!! <3

_Longest Night. Winter Solstice. Festival of the Glacian._ Whatever you wanted to call December 21st, it was a holiday that had been celebrated across Lucis for hundreds of years; the dedicated day to pay respects to the Astral of Ice, Shiva, in honour of her kind heart and compassion for humankind. Many spent Winter Solstice in the company of their loved ones; friends, family, partners - and some chose to pay their kindness forward in other ways. 

This year, Prompto and Ignis were going to finally, _finally_ , spend Winter Solstice together for the first time.

Every time Solstice came around, _something_ always came up to thwart their plans. More often than not it was Ignis who would be unable to take time off of work, harsh project deadlines or sudden out of the blue business trips that just happened to be on that very day. And then the _one time_ Ignis was free, _Prompto_ was the one that couldn’t get out of a prior engagement. After years of no luck, Prompto started to believe that they were cursed. After all, they’d been dating for what, six years now? And not _once_ did they get to spend Winter Solstice in each other’s company, as a couple. Not that they needed a designated day to have an excuse to spoil each other, of course, but it was something they’d wanted to experience together at least _once_ , if only so they could tick the box to say they’d done it.

And now, their years of misfortune had given way to a little bit of luck, at long last. But little did Prompto know that the whole Solstice thing would end up being a bigger ordeal than he could have imagined.

A month before the big event, stacks of cardboard boxes with the words ‘Holiday Stuff’ crudely etched in black marker on the sides slowly began appearing around the house. And this wasn’t Prompto’s doing, no - to his surprise, it was all Ignis’. It was _way_ too early to decorate, and _definitely_ too early to drag a strongly-scented pine tree through the front door, but Prompto wasn’t going to complain - when was the last time Ignis had ever been _this_ excited for something? However, when Prompto came home from work one day to find that even their bedroom blankets and sheets had undergone a seasonal makeover, lavender stripes exchanged for sparkly white and pastel blue embellishments, he had to admit that his boyfriend had maybe gone just a liiiittle bit overboard. He found it to be pretty cute, though - Solstice was important to Ignis, and it was going to be a first for their relationship. And besides, Prompto knew that when Ignis became fixated on something, there was nothing anyone could do or say that would deter him from completing his task - and this time, said task just so happened to be a reign of festive tyranny.

One evening, Prompto found Ignis sitting at the kitchen table, notebook and writing utensil in hand and a pensive wrinkle in his forehead, lip pinched between his teeth in deep thought.

“Hey babe,” Prompto greeted, setting his keys and wallet down. “Whatcha up to?”

“Planning,” said Ignis, his eyes glued downward. _Scritch, scritch_ went his pen as it glided across the paper.

“Eh?”

“Meal planning,” Ignis clarified.

“Uh. For what?”

“Winter Solstice.”

“But it’s not even December yet,” said Prompto.

“Indeed.”

“And, like, technically it’s just one meal?” Prompto continued. He gestured in the air, talking with his hands as he became more animated. “What’s there to plan that would require filling up an entire _diary_ worth of stuff?”

“It’s not a diary, Prompto, it’s a _planner_ ,” Ignis replied automatically, a response he had given many times previously on the subject. He tapped the end of his pen - a fancy engraved one he had ‘borrowed’ from his office - against the page. “And I disagree. There is far more to Solstice than just dinner. A day is composed of three separate meals, is it not?”

Prompto snorted. “Well, sure, but---”

“There is _much to do_.” And with that, the conversation was over.

And that was when Prompto learned that when Ignis went all-in, Ignis went _all-out_.

*****************

The weeks that followed were similar; soon the house, interior and exterior, was decorated to the nines, a motif of stars and snowy-related adornments hanging neatly in carefully-plotted placements. All of Ignis’ free time was dedicated to Solstice - Prompto helped here and there, but more often than not he’d stepped aside to allow Ignis’ ‘vision’ to bloom into something resembling a pretty winter lily. Despite Ignis’ loyal regimen of daily planning and preparation for the event, though, the Six had something else in mind for him: a case of the sniffles the very week before the big event.

“Just early morning congestion,” Ignis insisted that morning, his feet perched on a rickety chair in order to hang a string of white and blue lights along the wall. “Nothing more, I assure you.”

“You sure?” asked Prompto. He placed his hand on the chair’s backrest, ceasing its rocking. _Last thing Ignis needs is a broken leg_ , Prompto thought. “I can grab some cold meds on the way home from work later, it’s really no biggie. And also, shouldn’t you be using our ladder for this?”

“ _Step ladder_ ,” Ignis corrected. “And that won’t be necessary, in both regards. I have excellent balance, and once I shower, the resulting steam will ensure my nasal passages clear right up.”

“Nasal passages,” Prompto repeated. He couldn’t help but grin. “Real sexy. All right, whatever you say, babe. I’m gonna grab some Gralean food on the way home later. If the shower doesn’t work its magic, then _that_ spicy goodness will do the trick, guaranteed.”

Ignis looked over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling from the borderline tacky lights he’d just plugged in. “Thank you, darling,” he purred. “Take care on the road; there may be ice.”

When Prompto returned many hours later, he knew something was off when the outdoor holiday lights weren’t illuminating the snow and ice-glazed yard like they should be. Stepping inside their home, he removed his boots by the door and called for his boyfriend, to no reply. _Odd_. Traversing further, there was no Ignis to be found - and there would have been no trace of him either, if Prompto hadn’t discovered a poor attempt at concealing a large mound of used tissues in the kitchen garbage can, hiding beneath a chunk of styrofoam. When he heard his next clue, a nose being blown in the near distance, Prompto set the bag of takeout food on the counter and followed the sound, leading to the discovery of a red-nosed boyfriend lying on the living room couch, bundled up in one of their hand-knit quilts.

“Oh, _Iggy,_ ” Prompto crooned, as if a drenched post-bath cat had just crossed his path. “You _sure_ you don’t want me to go and grab some meds?”

Ignis jolted, sitting up straight at the sound of Prompto’s voice. “Ah, Prompto, I didn’t hear you come home,” he replied quickly. He hid the used tissue under the blanket, then patted around for his glasses on the end table. A sniffle followed, poorly disguised by the simultaneous sound of limbs shifting across fabric. “I’m fine, Prompto.”

“But you’ve rubbed a layer of skin off your nose,” Prompto pointed out.

“Nonsense,” said Ignis.

Prompto sat beside him, their legs touching. He reached up to rub his palm to Ignis’ forearm, speaking softly like he was coaxing a rabid voretooth out from beneath their front porch. “Babe, I’m kiiiiinda starting to think you’re coming down with something.”

Ignis, stubborn, once more passed his current condition off as nothing. “You needn’t worry, Prompto,” he insisted. “Just some warm tea and an early bedtime, and tomorrow morning I will wake up as good as new, as if _this_ -” he gestured to himself, “- never happened at all.”

Prompto wasn’t convinced. “Uh huh.”

Ignis forced a cheery smile. “Shall we have some dinner?”

*****************

The Gralean food didn’t help; instead, it seemed to make the ‘nasal passages’ issue five times worse. No matter how many times Ignis excused himself to go blow his nose in the bathroom, it didn’t seem to make any difference at all; he’d now gone through an entire box of tissues, and the medicine Prompto briefly left the house to retrieve also proved useless. When they finally retired to bed, Prompto didn’t catch a wink of sleep, thanks to his bedmate suddenly becoming an esteemed trumpet player overnight - or rather, a boyfriend whose relentless congestion resulted in picture frame-rattling snoring.

And that, as Prompto declared, marked the beginning of the end.

What began as innocent sniffles quickly turned to a horrible, dry, hacking cough, followed by icy-hot fevers and ‘hit by a bus’ all-over body aches, mixed in with debilitating headaches. Prompto had to take the initiative to not only call in sick to work for Ignis to stop him from going, but it also took everything in him to not chain Ignis to the bed in a non-fun way to prevent him from following his meticulous ‘Winter Solstice Schedule’ when the day finally came.

“Let _me_ handle it,” Prompto chided at Ignis’ bedside. “Dude, I can cook. I can clean. I can set a table. No sweat. You just--- hey, don’t you _dare_ get out of bed, mister, or _else_ \---get back in there, Mr. Scientia, I am _not_ kidding!”

“But---” Ignis began, and Prompto quickly shushed him. He leaned down to place a kiss to Ignis’ forehead, and gave him what he hoped was his very best reassuring smile. “Relax. You did all the decorating and planning. The least I can do is see it all through for you. What help would you be in the kitchen if you ended up passing out on the floor, anyway?”

Prompto could tell that Ignis was distressed, but after a moment of silence passed between them, his boyfriend appeared to relax, settling back down on the bed. Ignis’ hair was slicked with sweat, his cheeks flushed a rosy red. He looked like he’d just run ten marathons back to back. “Very well,” he conceded with a sigh.

“Yessssss,” Prompto cheered. He left the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. Rubbing his hands, he approached the ~~diary~~ planner that had lain abandoned on the table, waiting for its master to return. Prompto was no master of this craft, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least _try_.

As Prompto flipped through the pages, he thanked the Six that Ignis kept very thorough notes for his recipes, because _damn_ , there was _so much going on_ . Utensils that he didn’t even know they owned, let alone _existed_ , were now strewn around the kitchen, pots and pans and whisks and other objects of the unknown ready to be called upon when it came time for their big moment. And this was just for _breakfast_.

Prompto followed the meal plan to a T, haphazardly crafting a delicious smorgasbord of homemade crepes, fresh fruit and hand-whipped cream, served with finely spiced tea on the side. He was pretty damn proud of his handiwork, looking forward to surprising Ignis with the literal fruit of his spoils.

...unfortunately, breakfast ended up being for naught. 

Ignis lay in bed, burrowed up in three of their coziest quilts, lips parted in a rolling rumble of a snore. Prompto stood there with his loaded-up tray in hand, observing, and decided that he didn’t have the heart to wake him. After all, this was the most peaceful Ignis had slept in three days; he should let him catch up on sleep, right?

Maybe he’d have better luck, come lunchtime.

*****************

Ignis was still sleeping. And he was _really out_.

Well, at least Prompto could chill and have some leftover takeout food for his own lunch instead. And maybe take a nap, himself.

*****************

Dinner, though, was a different story. This was the big event, the meal that mattered. Ignis had to eat _something_ before the day was over, and Prompto was going to deliver, dammit.

Prompto poked his head into the bedroom, confirming that Ignis was still asleep, and then set to work in the battlefield - er, kitchen. He wasn’t going to follow Ignis’ meal plan for dinner - how the _heck_ was one person supposed to make all of _that_ by themself? - so instead, he did a few online searches for recipes and found the perfect combination, not only worthy of being consumed by a first-class chef such as Ignis, but also perfect for someone who felt like death.

Hopefully, Prompto could pull it off. How hard could it be?

*****************

After Prompto finished his harrowing kitchen escapades, he went to retrieve Ignis. To his relief, Ignis had just woken up - thank the Six, he dodged the guilt of having to wake him himself - and without any explanation, he assisted the bedridden four-eyes to his feet, making sure he slipped on his Moogle slippers and bundled himself up nice and warm in his favourite pink (“ _Prompto, the shade is called_ dusty rose,” Ignis’ voice echoed in his mind) robe, before they left the room together. Ignis’ stance was shaky, each step taken as if he were worried his feet would slip out from beneath him, but Prompto was right there at his side, holding Ignis’ arm in his own.

When they made it to the couch at last, Prompto sat beside Ignis, making sure his partner was settled and cozy on the cushions. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ignis beat him to the punch.

“I’m so sorry, Prompto.” The words expelled in a long, drawn-out sigh.

Prompto’s nose scrunched. “For what?” he asked. He saw this conversation coming from a mile away; he knew Ignis better than anyone else, after all.

“This,” said Ignis, vaguely. The way he spoke, it was like he’d just popped a child’s balloon on their birthday.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But---”

“But nothing,” Prompto said. He tapped his fingers to Ignis’ chest. “You can’t help being sick. Everyone gets sick! It’s not your fault.”

“But my schedule---”

Prompto rolled his eyes. “Don’t you get it?” he chided. “All that stuff you wrote down was neat and all, but it wasn’t necessary. Not saying that I don’t appreciate everything and anything you do, but I think somewhere along the way, you kinda forgot what Longest Night is actually about.”

Prompto abruptly left the room, and when he returned a moment later, he was carrying a tray in his hands, carefully balancing its contents as he strode back over to Ignis’ side.

“What’s this?” Ignis asked, curious. He was squinting, trying to focus through dry, tired eyes, and even if he’d insisted that his vision was crystal clear even without glasses, Prompto knew his years were starting to betray him.

“The best thing you’ll ever put in your mouth,” Prompto grinned.

Ignis’ retort was instant, with a playful quirk of an eyebrow. “You mean _besides_ \---”

“Shhhh, don’t ruin the moment, perv.”

Ignis chuckled. “It smells lovely, Prompto.”

Filing a generously-sized bowl was a hearty vegetable and meat stew, stocked with veggies picked from the garden in their backyard and a thick, rich gravy Prompto had learned to perfect from an old recipe they’d gotten from Coctura many years ago. 

“And what are these?” asked Ignis, gesturing to the small plate at the bowl’s side.

“Uh,” Prompto laughed nervously. “If you have to ask, then I guess that’s a fail for me. I hope they taste better than they look.”

Ignis picked up one of the crispy squares, almost daintily, before taking a bite. “Homemade crackers,” he said thoughtfully. “Well done.”

“Yeah, they were probably in the oven for too long, so that’s why they’re ‘well done’, but---”

“No, Prompto. I meant ‘well done’, as in you did a fantastic job,” Ignis clarified. “They taste delectable.”

“Oh.” Prompto gave him a sheepish smile. “Go me?”

Ignis kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” he said, reciprocating Prompto’s smile. “For all of this. Truly. I am eager to try the stew, next.”

So maybe it would end up being a _win-win_ after all.

*****************

After they’d finished eating dinner, Ignis’ eyes fell closed, his head cradled against Prompto’s shoulder, taking in the scent of the other’s shower from earlier that morning. “You neglected to continue your earlier thought, love,” he murmured. He sounded so tired, as if he were sluggishly grasping at his straws of consciousness.

“What thought?” asked Prompto. He wasn’t doing much better in the fatigue department - it was taking everything in him to not pass out right then and there. He’d had a long, long day, and Ignis was really warm - he was right, that robe _was_ comfortable; at least, to lean against.

“Mn, about what this holiday is supposed to be about, as you had informed me that I was mistaken,” hummed Ignis.

“Oh, right.” Prompto sat up a bit, clearing his throat before he began. “So anyway, Iggy, Longest Night isn’t about making mountains of food for two people, or measuring the spaces between each decoration to make sure it’s all hanging evenly---” Prompto heard Ignis suppress a laugh. “Hey, just because I didn’t _see_ you fussing around with a ruler doesn’t mean I didn’t _know_ you were doing it. I _know you_.”

“Then what, pray tell, _is_ Longest Night all about?” Ignis asked, his lips curved in a fond smile.

It took Prompto a moment before he forced himself to move away from Ignis, not wanting to leave his comfy vicinity (‘Igcinity’?). He hopped off the couch and stood directly in front of Ignis, hands on his hips like he was about to deliver a grand, life-changing speech. He then gestured to himself, from his messy blond hair down to his feet, big toe poking through a thready hole in his sock. “Me, dumbass,” he said simply. “And you, too. In case you forgot that.” He swiveled around in a full circle, showing off the goods like he was a prize on The Price is Spliced, then gave an exaggerated bow.

Ignis stared at the display, then gave a cough-strained laugh. “And you, my darling, are absolutely correct,” he mused, affection in every word.

Prompto felt a hand close around his wrist. Before he could say anything more, he found himself pulled down onto Ignis’ lap and smoothly coaxed into a gentle kiss, followed by adoring fingers running through his hair. If he ended up getting sick from smooching Ick-nis Sick-entia, then whatever - after all, _Longest Night_ , _Winter Solstice_ , _Festival of the Glacian,_ whatever you wanted to call it, was meant to be spent together, and they finally succeeded.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me here:
> 
> My Twitters:  
> [moonkissedstars (FFXV)](https://twitter.com/moonkissedstars)  
> [SongOfMarbule (main)](https://twitter.com/SongOfMarbule)
> 
> My Tumblrs:  
> [caseofthestolenspecs (FFXV)](http://caseofthestolenspecs.tumblr.com)  
> [saturnvalleycoffee (Misc/main)](http://saturnvalleycoffee.tumblr.com)


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